ful. I have.

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell, There stays a husband to make you a wife. Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, They'll be in fcarlet ftraight at any news. Hie you to church, I must another way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Muft climb a bird's-nest soon, when it is dark. I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you fhall bear the burthen soon at night. Go, I'll to dinner, hie you to the cell. Jul. Hie to high fortune;

honest nurse, farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Monastery.

Enter Friar Lawrence, and Romeo.

O fmile the heav'ns upon this holy A&t,'

Fri.ST

That after-hours with forrow chide us not!
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what forrow can,
It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy,
That one short minute gives me in her fight:
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough, I may but call her mine.

Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they meet, confume. The sweetest honey
Is loathfome in its own deliciousness,

And in the taste confounds the appetite;

Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth fo:
Too fwift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint;
A lover may beftride the goffamour,
That idles in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall, fo light is vanity.
Jul. Good even to my ghoftly Confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
Rom. Ah! Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then fweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air; and let rich mufick's tongue
Unfold th' imagin'd happiness, that Both
Receive in either, by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars, that can count their worth ;
But my true love is grown to fuch Excess,

I cannot fum up one half of my wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make fhort work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 'Till Holy Church incorp'rate two in one.

[Exeunt.

ACT

III.

SCENE, The STR E E T.

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.

BENVOLIO.

Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire ;

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad;

And, if we meet, we fhall not 'fcape a brawl; For now these hot days is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of thofe fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and fays, God fend me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the fecond cup, draws it on the Drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like fuch a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy VOL. VIII.

с

mood

mood as any in Italy; and as foon mov'd to be moody, and as foon moody to be mov'd.

Ben. And what to?

Mer.Nay, an' there were two fuch, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair lefs, in his beard, than thou haft: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reafon but because thou haft hafel eyes; what eye, but fuch an eye, would spy out fuch a quarrel? thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling: thou hast quarrel'd with a man for coughing in the ftreet, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the Sun. Didft thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new fhoes with old ribband ? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling!

Ben. If I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man fhould buy the fee fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mar. The fee-fimple? O fimple!

Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good-den, a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us? couple it with fomething, make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You fhall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occafion.

Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving? Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'ft with Romeo

Mer. Confort! what doft thou make us minstrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords: here's my fiddleftick; here's That, fhall make you dance. Zounds! confort!

[Laying his hand on his fword. Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men :

Either withdraw unto fome private place,
Or reafon coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze.

I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir! here comes my

man.

Mer. But I'll be hang'd, Sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go first to field, he'll be your follower; Your Worship in that fenfe may call him man. Tyb. Romeo, the love, I bear thee, can afford No better term than this, thou art a villain. Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excufe the appertaining rage To fuch a Greeting: villain I am none, Therefore, farewel; I fee, thou know'ft me not. Tyb. Boy, this fhall not excufe the Injuries That thou haft done me, therefore turn and draw. Rom. I do proteft, I never injur'd thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise; 'Till thou fhalt know the reason of my love. And fo, good Capulet, (whofe name I tender As dearly as my own,) be fatisfied.

Mer. O calm,dishonourable, vile fubmiffion! Ab! la Stoccata carries it away.

Tybalt, you rat catcher, will you walk?

Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me?

Mer. Good King of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal; and as you fhall ufe me hereafter, dry-beat the reft of the eight. Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears, ere it be out.

Tyb. I am for you.
[Drawing.
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado.

[Mercutio and Tybalt fight.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio beat down their weapons Gentlemen for fhame, forbear this outrage Tybalt Mercutio the Prince exprefly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.

Hold, Tybalt, good Mercutio.
Mer. I am hurt

A plague of both the houses! I am fped:
Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben. What, art thou hurt?

[Exit Tybalt.

Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.

Where is my page? go, villain, fetch a furgeen. Rom. Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve: ask for me to morrow, and you fhall find me a grave man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world: a plague of both your houses! What? a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to fcratch a man to death? a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetick? why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.

Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into fome house, Benvolio,
Or I fhall faint; a plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms-meat of me,

I have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houses!

Exeunt Mer. Ben.

Rom. This Gentleman, the Prince's near allie,

My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt

In my behalf; my reputation ftain'd
With Tybalt's flander; Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my coufin: O fweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foftned valour's steel.

Enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead That gallant spirit hath afpir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

Rom.